


You know who whines? Babies.

by Strength_in_pain



Series: John and his boys [35]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5 Times, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Parent John Winchester, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 11:31:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: Dean say to cas, you know who whines? Babies. And a post said, “I bet John said this to Dean.” So 5 times John said Whining is for babies.





	You know who whines? Babies.

It looked like a good idea, at the time, to drink four glasses of chocolate milk. Five-year-old Dean slurped those suckers down as fast as he could. After all, It wasn’t everyday he was treated to such delicious tasting treats. Dad had left him with a nice old hunter, someone who had an older wife,  and she spoiled the heck out of Dean. 

 

But now Dad was back, and they were packing their things, ready to go on the road, but Dean had this horrible stomach ache. It was bad. Painful enough to spring tears to Dean’s eyes. 

 

“Dad, my belly hurts.” Dad stopped packing, and looked down at Dean. 

 

“Do you feel like your going to throw up?” 

 

“No sir, but it aches on the inside.” Dean informed. 

 

John hummed, now paying more attention to the ammo he was putting away. “I’m sorry, kiddo. Tell you what, we can stop at the pharmacy on the hill and get you some Tums.” 

 

That sounded good in theory, but Dean needed relief right now, and Dad was taking forever. 

 

“Daaadd, my stomach huuurrttts.” Dean whined as his father picked up baby Sammy. 

 

“I know, you told me already.” He muttered, walking into the living room and grabbing the car seat off the couch. 

 

“It’s bothering me.” Dean said in a squeaky voice. 

 

“Knock it off, Dean.” John scolded. 

 

“Daaadd. I want medicine now!” He stomped his foot for good measure, letting Dad know he means business. 

 

“Quit whining, your not a baby any more, Dean. I don’t want to hear another word from you or I won’t get you any medicine at all.”

 

John didn’t hear a word from him, but he did have to deal with a lot of crying, from both Dean and Sammy. Needless to say, fixing Dean’s stomach ache was the new number priority. 

                  ________________________

 

When Sam was four he was a very curious toddler. Unfortunately for his big brother, that meant Sam was always stealing his stuff. 

 

Sam couldn’t help it. His big brother had cool things, like these amazing comic books with all the really neat pictures. Sam loved book, but he always read the hardback picture books. He was never allowed to read Dean’s comics, because Dad said they were specifically so Dean could have something to himself. Sam didn’t really get that. What’s Dean’s is his, right? 

 

Maybe that’s why he had his hand in Dean’s duffle bag, eating his box of Oreos and flipping through his comic book. 

 

“Hey don’t touch that!” Dean screamed, as he came out of the motel bathroom. 

 

Sam scooted back on his bottom, further away from his over towing brother. “Mine.” Sam said.

 

“No, that’s mine!” Dean screamed, prying the comic out of Sam’s hands. 

 

It was an easy win, Sammy couldn’t compete with his brother’s strength. It wasn’t fair, he had four years on Sam. 

 

“Are those my Oreos?” Dean asked, just how noticing the black crumbs around Sam’s face. 

 

Sam nodded hesitantly. “Mines was all gone.” 

 

Dean blinked a few times, trying to mentally cool off. “Stay out of my stuff!” He exploded. 

 

“I’m telling Daddy you yelled at me.” Sam screamed. 

 

“Yeah, well I’m telling Dad you were touching my stuff again.” 

 

“Go head. Daddy will believe me.” Sam said putting on the most evil grin. 

 

“DAD!” Dean screamed and a few seconds later Sam did the same thing. 

 

“Copycat.” Dean spat in his direction just as his father entered the room. 

 

“What?” He asked. There was an edge to his voice. Dean realized quickly that it was his annoyed tone. 

 

“Dee yelled at me again.” Sam said, waddling over to his Father’s legs and standing defenselessly behind him. 

 

“Dean.” 

 

“He was in my stuff again.” Dean whined. 

 

“Tough. He’s your little brother and it’s your job to look after him. I don’t want you yelling at him.”

 

“Oh my gosh, Dad. I yelled at him, I didn’t punch him in the face, which by the way, I was tempted to do.”

 

“You better not do that, unless you want to never sit again.” 

 

Dean huffed, rolling his eyes, “Yeah. I know, he’s too little for that. And I would never actually hurt him. But can’t you keep him away from my things.” 

 

“Sam. Stay out of your brother’s stuff.”

 

“Okay Daddy.”

 

“He’s not gonna listen to you!” Dean cried out in anger. “You have to firmly warn him.”

 

“Dean, don’t you think you’re being a little possessive over your stuff. Maybe you should try sharing with your brother. Huh?” John suggested. 

 

“That is so not fair!” Dean shouted. 

 

“Actually I’m pretty sure most kids your age know how to share, so maybe you should grow the hell up, and stop acting like a baby.”

 

“Daaad.”

 

“Stop whining like one too.” 

 

“Fine.” Dean growled. “He can eat my stuff and play with my toys, but I’m not playing with him.” 

 

“Dean.”

 

“No, he can play by himself.” Dean yelled, stomping off towards his bed and crashing under the covers. 

 

                 _________________________

 

“But why?” Dean moaned, looking hopelessly out Baby’s window. 

 

John sighed, placing a comforting hand on his eldest son’s shoulder and giving it a little shake. 

 

“Come on, trick or treating isn’t that fun anyway.” 

 

“But the candy, Dad. I need the candy. It’s a crucial part of my existence.” 

 

“You’ve always been melodramatic.” John muttered, taking his arm away. 

 

“No Dad seriously. It’s not fair.”

 

“Life’s not fair, kid.”

 

“Jesus, if you say that one more time.” His comment was muttered under his breath, but unfortunately Dad had hearing like a hawk. 

 

“If you whine one more time, I’m going to shoot my ears out.” John said, equally as dramatic. Two can play Dean’s little game. 

 

“I just want to go. I’m ten years old. All the other kids in my class are going.”

 

“Here we go again.” John mumbled. 

 

Dean’s eyebrows swooped downward, and his lower lip jotted out, giving off what could only be describe as puppy dog eyes. 

 

“Your mean.” He whined. 

 

“Yup. And your whining like a baby.”

 

Dean scoffed, folding his arms up and looking out Baby’s window again. Any further conversation was hopeless. 

 

                 _________________________

 

By the time Mr. Woodrow, the town sherif left, John felt tired and frustrated as hell. He figured that he still had time to deal with Dean’s nonsense without cancelling the interview he had schedule with the witness to the supernatural spirit. John took one look at his son, and his stomach dropped to the floor. This was going to suck. 

 

“Alright, Dean?”

Dean coughed nervously. “Mm?”

“You wanna tell me what the hell you were playing at tonight, son? Cause I sure as hell know I’ve raised you better than that.”

 

Dean stared at the worn carpet. "That asshole was harassing me for no reason."

"That asshole is the town sherif.” John said, to which Dean rolled his eyes, scoffing a soft whatever.  "And you should have known better than to give him lip and draw his attention.”

Now was probably a good time for him to shut the hell up, except Dean's mouth sometimes went its own way.

"That son of a bitch was grabbing Sammy.”

“He was trying to take you two home,” John growled, “and don’t get me started on how much you screwed up by bringing your Eleven-year-old brother on a hunt. Not to mention why you were trying to do a hunt by yourself! Dammit Dean! Do you realize how dangerous Zombies are?”

“I was just trying to get the research book out the museum. I was trying to help, Dad.”

“Well you didn’t help. All you did was put your brother in danger, make me late for my interview, and oh yeah, clashing with the authorities. I swear to God Dean, if I can’t get my hands on that book now, because they amped up security, I’m going to beat your ass again.”

 _Again_. Huh. That wasn’t good. So Dean might have seriously underestimated how angry his Dad was going to be if he got caught, which he did. 

Dean wasn't the least surprised when Dad grabbed his upper arm and started walking him to the kitchen table. He was still angry about the entire thing, but he was honest enough to admit he had this coming. 

 

John pulled a wooden spoon out of the kitchen drawer. _Shit_. 

 

Ok, Dean decided he didn’t deserve that wicked instrument from hell. “Stop. Daad. I don’t want this.”

 

“And I don’t want my son to grow up bitching and whining at the police.” 

 

“I didn’t whine that much.” Dean muttered, then he thought about it, “okay. So maybe I did. But come on, Dad. That doesn’t warrant a death sentence.”

 

“Well you know what I say. Whining is for babies. I guess if you’re gonna act like -“

 

Dean cut him off, “oh for the love of God, just get it over with.” 

 

John snorted, and took Dean over his knee. He started smacking methodically, landing a swat to his right cheek, then the left, working his way down Dean’s backside. Ever since John lost Mary, he found himself to be big on logics and methods. He needs to feel in control. He had no control the night he lost his wife and home, so now John made a point of being in control. It drove the boys insane half the time, but John had to do it. And hey, it had kept him alive so far… 

 

“Ow! Dad. Ow.” Dean grunted; he hated this bit with a vengeance. 

 

John stopped for a second, carefully debating whether he should stop or not. He really needed to get to his interview, but Dean also screwed up royally tonight. Deciding his son could go a little longer, John tipped Dean forward. 

 

“Dad, please no! I learned my lesson… I won’t do that shit again… come on.”

 

John ignored his pleas, despite the guilt it brought on. Instead, he wrapped his arm tighter around Dean’s waist and took aim. The spoon landed solidly on his right cheek and a couple seconds later the pain registered and Dean just about jumped off his Dad’s lap. He knew the next swats were coming and tensed, whimpering when they landed. He was tearful by then so John knew it wouldn’t take long to make sure the lesson stuck for a long time. 

  
Steeling himself against the tears he knew were coming, John got down to the business end of things. He upped the tempo and changed his style to random swats, flicking his wrist to make it sting a little more. Dean hissed. His legs started scissoring of their own accord and before long John heard the tell-tale sign of truly repentant tears. 

 

John winced at the bright shade of what must be an incredibly sore backside. John put the wooden spoon back on the table, then put a soothing hand on Dean’s back. “Okay, Ace, we’re done.”

  
Dean lay quiet for a moment, crying as much from relief as from the burning in his rear. He took a shuddering breath, then moved to stand up. John helped him up, then followed suit; perching on the edge of the table and silently opening his arms to his boy. 

 

Dean sniffled and leaned into his Dad’s chest, shoulders slumping as a fresh wave of tears spilled over. John never minded affection like this under these circumstances, honestly, sometimes John needed it as much as Dean did. They stayed that way for a few minutes until Dean settled and his tears slowed to occasional sniffles. 

John eased him back a little so he could look at him. “You alright?” John asked gently, trying not to sound too gruff. 

  
Dean nodded, watching his Dad with watery eyes. John hated making his boys cry. “Use your words, Deano.”

“Sorry… Yeah I’m fine. Just sore… You’re really good at that...” He mumbled petulantly after a moment.

 

“Alright kid. I hate to run off on you, but I need to get to that witness. No more hunts of your own okay?”

 

“Kay.” Dean said quietly. 

 

                 _________________________

 

The hunt did not go the way John planned. Unfortunately, Dean got the burnt end of the deal. He suffered a minor bruise on the cheek, but worse, his ankle looks swollen. 

 

“Are you okay?” John had asked his son this at least four times now, and the answer was the same. 

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Dean, you look like your crying?”

 

“Sweating! I’m sweating. It’s super hot. Besides, I’m not a baby, Dad. I don’t cry.” 

 

“Does it hurt a lot?” John asked, touching it with a finger. Dean jerks back, flinching, and shaking his head vehemently. It hurts like hell, but he can’t say that. He’s almost dizzy with it, but he refuses to let his Dad know. 

 

“I should get back,” Dean says, trying ever harder to keep smiling. “You can go on without me.”

 

It feels like someone stabbed his ankle, and he knows internally that something is pretty wrong, but refuses to submit to it. He’s an expert at hiding pain of all sorts; he grew up trying to pretend that the cuts, bruises, and burns didn’t hurt him, which sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t. There was, of course, the infamous time that Sam shoved him out of a tree and knocked him flat on his stomach, fracturing his rib; neither of them had known it was fractured, and Dean remembers the world spinning around him as he tried to push air into his lungs and lay there for what seemed like ages, wheezing until Sam finally called Dad. 

 

When he gets back to the motel, Dean collapses on the bed. 

 

“What happened?” Sam asked. Dad was in the doorway, helping Dean inside. 

 

“We had to cancel the hunt. Dean got hurt.” John explained. 

 

“Come here, Sammy. I’m gonna teach you how to heal a wound.”

 

To John’s astonishment, Dean didn’t let out a single noise of pain the whole time John was poking a prodding him. It wasn’t until Dean passed out, that John realized just how much pain Dean was hiding from him. 

 

_You know who whines, babies_. As he replayed his own voice in his head, John questioned whether this was a mistake. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for reading again. When I started this series, I never expected to get such amazing people commenting on my stories or even leaving Kudos. I am so happy and grateful for all of you. 
> 
> To be honest, I never thought this series would go this long. I’m probably going to slow it down to focus on other stories and other series even, maybe? I just have to follow my heart, but i’m not going to stop this series because I don’t want to leave you guys stranded. We’re all like best buds now, and I love talking to you as much as I love writing stories for you. :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this one. I still have a few more planned out so there should still be a few more weeks of regular updates and then i’ll update this series every now and then but it will be more rare. Love you all. <3 A.K.F and of course :)


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